Mew is a mostly white short-haired house-cat, though spots of deepest black stand out in sharp contrast to his snow white coat, including a large patch around one eye, a "saddle" across his back, and a mischievous little speck that dots the side of his otherwise pink nose. He stands about 9 inches tall, with a lean, wiry body. His wide golden eyes gleam with an intelligence and a curiosity that can be a little unnerving when his stare seems to look directly through others. His tail is longer than average for his size and seems to be eternally swishing about as though it had a mind of its own. His small, triangular ears are ever-alert, twitching and swiveling at the slightest sound.

Mrrowr is a young human female of about 16 with auburn hair. She has wide, expressive eyes that display an almost feline intelligence. Some of the (more tolerable) humans that Mew has interacted with have told him that Mrrowr would be considered rather comely for her species, but it's hard for Mew to really judge that objectively.

Personality:

Mew is an independent loner who sometimes comes off as a bit of a gruff misanthrope. He particularly has little patience for most humans, other than his former "partner" Rhiamon, and his familiar Mrrowr. Mew thinks of Mrrowr as more than just a pet, she is pretty much like a member of the family. He has a paternal affection for her and is fiercely protective of her.

He is not particularly fond of other people though, and is not shy about it. Humans in particular are always so loud, messy, and seem like they can never sit still. They're basically giant, hairless kittens that never grew up. He lives with the frustration of knowing that he is often the smartest one in the room, and is almost never recognized as such. This has led to a never-ending disdain for stupidity that typically manifests itself through a biting sarcasm. That being said, underneath his gruff demeanor is an essentially kind heart. He has a soft spot for strays and helpless children, and would never do anything to harm another (except for prey, of course, but there wasn't much he could do about that, right?).

Mrrowr is a loving and faithful pet who enjoys nothing more than to have her master curl up in her lap. Being a human raised by a cat, she doesn't always fit in well with other humans, who find her behavior a little ... odd. She is very curious about her human heritage and about their bizarre customs, though she is also rather shy to interact with other humans and feels as if she is constantly being judged for not knowing their strange ways.

Background:

Mew was once the familiar to a powerful human witch named Rhiamon. Rhiamon was a reclusive hermit who lived alone in a cottage in the middle of the dark forest, her only companions were Mew and her communion with the powerful forces of her patron. Eventually Rhiamon used the powerful magics at her disposal to awaken Mew so that she might better relate to her only living companion.

One day, Mew noticed a strange change had begun to occur in his human friend. Rhiamon’s belly grew large with child. This seemed rather strange to Mew, since he had never seen her with interact another of her kind, but the child was brought to her by her shadowy patron. Sadly, what first appeared to be a great blessing soon turned tragic. It was a complicated pregnancy and Rhiamon did not survive the birthing process.

Mew vowed to care for the child, who served as a reminder to him of his faithful friend, Rhiamon. Mew named the young girl Mrrowr and raised her as if she were his own kitten. Over time, it gradually became apparent that even in the absence of Rhiamon, Mew mysteriously remained connected to the arcane forces that had once bound him to the witch. Even more surprising, he discovered that the powers that were now his to command seemed inextricably linked to the child, though the roles had become reversed, with the cat now acting as the witch and the human child as the familiar. Mrrowr herself turned out to be a sweet, endearing, but relatively simple and naive girl, with no chance of ever understanding or controlling the eldritch forces herself. Luckily, she had Mew to look out for her; otherwise she would be hopelessly lost.

Though Mew would've been perfectly content to stay at home with his pet human for the rest of his days, he is keenly attuned to the mystic forces that permeate the world and this has made him aware that something is not right with the world, and he feels a sense of obligation to investigate and do what he can to set things right.

Appearance:Coming in at a little under three feet and barely thirty pounds Xycon doesn't cut the most intimidating or impressive figure. He normally wears a version of traditional monk garb scaled to his diminutive figure and making his appearance reminiscent of a child playing dress up. To this outfit he has added hand and foot wrappings as well as a deep hood that allows him to travel brightly light places. When his hood is pulled down it's quite easy to tell his race even from a distance, with his dark blue scales, prominent snout full of razor sharp teeth and his reptilian eyes. Like most kobolds his face always seems particularly expressionless to other races, and this gives him what could be described as an almost constant look of calm or serenity.

Personality: A follower of the Sangpotshi philosophy, Xycon's dedication to the path is unquestionable. Always striving for moderation and balance, he works strives to always be in control of himself, prefers listening to speaking and contemplation to rash action. His deeply held belief in karma means that he's constantly seeking to work the will of his leaders in order to pay for his past misdeeds that must have lead to him being born as a Kobold instead of one of the other Wyrmkin. With enough dedication and sacrifice he hopes to eventually be reincarnated as a great dragon, what he feels is the pinnacle of the reincarnation.

Background: Born to a poor tribe that lived on the border of the empire and the wilds of the inner continent Xycon's first years were a hard existence of barely scraping by. Muck farmers by trade, Xycon's family helped to supplement the tribes meager rations by sneaking onto the surface and hunting and gathering what they could find. Having been born with an abnormality that caused his eyes to be much worse than others at seeing in darkness but also see in the harsh surface light without being blinded he was sent on these daylight hunts at a very young age as the eyes and ears of older and more experienced scavangers.

It was during one of these trips that tragedy struck. The party were attacked by a group of wolves, and killed almost to a person. Xycon was left for dead amongst a corpses of his fellows. But as luck would have it an old hermit that lived near came upon the scene, and taking pity saved the unconscious kobold, binding his wounds and placed him in a cage to keep him from escaping before his wounds were fully healed.

Xycon was confused and scared at first, not knowing why this strange old man had saved him or what he was keeping him for. Over the next month the hermit explained to him the tenets of Sangpotshi, and something spoke to him on a deeper level, and that both confused and fascinated him. He saw that a better life could be had, and eventually he converted to The Way.

After that he stayed with the old man, helping him and learning from him ancient wisdoms and fighting styles not known to the vast majority of peoples. When his mentor finally passed on to his next life Xycon stuck out on his own, doing the best he could for others and trying to spread the teachings of his faith. Eventually he caught the eye of members of the Silver bloodline of the Wyrm Kings, and was approached for sponsoring into the faction. Xycon was thrilled by the idea of working with people so closed tied to the great dragons, and readily accepted.

Faction: Wyrm Kings

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Mcderth is quietly working his way back onto the site. Don't stare to hard, you might scare him away...

HIs attire looks to have been of the finest quality when he started wearing it, but time has not been kind to the gray silk shirt, jet black breeches and knee high leather boots the Nagaji wears. Dirt and wear has worn the clothing thin.

Beneath the cowl an almost nonexistent nose and deep golden eyes stare out, eyes so bright one might describe them as hypnotic .

Personality:

Yesmoro is cold and calculating in every aspect of life, his every action and thought has a purpose and more often then not that purpose is to further the goals of the Scaled Syndicate.

He is a ruthless and efficient assassin and will not hesitate to put his curved dagger to deadly use if tasked to by his benefactors

He is a man of few words and cuts to the point during negations and interrogations.

Background:

Yesmoro has known no life outside of the Scaled Syndicate, he was recruited at an early age when he was living as a street urchin, and eagerly accepted the consistent meals offered over the daily struggle of searching for meager morsels of food to avoid starvation.

His lack of morals and willingness to do whatever was tasked of him led to an immediate and continuous rise amongst the Syndicates footmen.

How funny would it be to actually do that? "Yes; I'm applying at your familiar." That'd be like a younger sibling whose always trying to steal your friends.

Oh my God, that's a great idea, two druids, one uses wild shape the other is more a spellcaster and the wild shape one pretends to be the animal companion for the caster one.
Why didn't I think of that? Well, I did, but... Why didn't I think of that sooner?

Tobias Vaughn is a massive man of fair skin, brown hair, and hazel eyes. Contrary to what one would imagine a kind priest looks like, Vaughn is an absolute mountain of a man; he stands well over six feet tall and possesses toned muscles indicative of intense physical training localized around his upper body and arms, as well as a stoic, chiseled face and jaw. Despite his intimidating presence, Tobias is loose and open with his body language, carrying his tempered form in confidence as one would expect a paladin-type to do.

Tobias is regularly seen unarmored and unencumbered in combat, wearing a light black church tunic over his chest and his priestly robes tied and stuffed around his waist. His exposed shoulders and forearms highlight many ritualistic markings and inkings, most of which are dedicated to Irori, but some are identifiable as symbols relating to other gods of good disposition such as Iomedae, making his body a canvas of secular devotion to all that is good and lawful.

Tobias' silky brown hair is unusually long, reaching down to his lower back when untied and rarely cut any shorter than that. Tobias often keeps his hair tied or braided into a 'warriors knot,' both for practical purposes in close combat and ceremonial reasons following Irori worship.

Personality:

Calm, confident, and warm, Tobias is an earnest and kind man who's dedicated his life to improving the lives of the empire's impoverished masses and cracking down on the activities of organized crime and corrupt authority encroaching upon his flock. He is an overwhelmingly friendly individual, always leaving himself open for input from others and carrying a sleepy, wise demeanor akin to an elderly master of martial arts - that is, he is admittedly not the most fun person to be around outside the heat of combat. However, despite his deep care for people and interpersonal communion, Tobias is very clear about never letting himself fall into the fallacy of 'protecting the weak.'

As a pious adherent to Irori - a man who was said to have attained divinity through sheer will, self-improvement, and enlightenment - Tobias does not believe in 'the weak,' or better yet, protecting 'the weak.' At his church, he believes that the ability to fend for one's self is within the grasp of anyone who has at least two arms and two legs — giving a man a fish vs. teaching a man to fish, that sort of thing. As such, Tobias strives to identify the potential in other people and assist them in becoming the best they could be - the same way that he did for himself. This is not necessarily limited to physical prowess - as Irori also teaches the value of knowledge and restoration. The church of Father Vaughn, under the scrutiny of The Radiant, is more akin to a medieval boxing gym doubling as a library.

Despite being an unforgiving teacher, Tobias does earnestly believe in the idea of 'good' and, although he is nowhere near a pacifist, he is not as reckless and vicious as he was when he was younger. His vigilante-esque pursuit of organized crime in the streets of the empire ends as soon as his enemies are beaten to near death, no more and no less. This has led to some contention with the Radiant, as Tobias silently condemns their brutal methods.

Background:

Tobias Vaughn was born in a massive city at the heart of the empire, in a filthy port district riddled with crime and desperation among its impoverished inhabitants. His earliest years were spent growing up in an orphanage for abandoned children, one that was crumbling and failing in a time when the gods became silent in the face of prayer. By the time he was old enough to recognize it, Tobias was forced to flee to the streets in search of food or be left starving in that rotting house of the gods. He wasn't so cynical yet as to believe that no god could help him, but he knew that they weren't filling his belly anytime soon.

Trying to survive alone on the empire streets seemed to cake that attitude in despair. A young Tobias was regularly bruised and beaten in his struggle to find work or food, having to contend with numerous other estranged orphans and beggars as a result of the empire's greed and organized criminals keeping the gold and food in the hands of those loyal to them. He ended up fighting more and more frequently with the other children, managing to knock down the scrawnier ones and duck under the swings of the bigger ones every time he got into a confrontation. Eventually, Tobias taught himself how to fistfight - rudimentary pugilism akin to ancient boxing. Amateur street fights for food and money became a profession of his, building something of a name for himself as a rough and fast fighter on the streets. He didn't know how to feel about it, not until he started getting some more pocket money from winning fights, enough to start feeding himself properly and improve his body.

Each day, it became a little easier, and Tobias became a little more loose with the way he carried himself. He grew cocky and violent, championing his urban reputation as a feared brawler and starting to contend more aggressively with those who kept him down in the past - the gangs, the thieves, and the cutthroats. A sort-of gang began to form around Tobias, scum who figured staying by his side and lapping up the loose coins and bread crumbs in his path of destruction would be fortunate. Tobias fittingly used them as cannon fodder as he transitioned from street fights to mugging and chasing gang members for information and money. He got what he wanted - at the cost of some of those who followed him. It developed into a local gang war between the followers of Tobias Vaughn and the syndicate that had run his arena. All he could see was red. With all it took to get here, he had the intent to go back to the bastards who kept him down and teach them what it meant to pick a fight with Tobias Vaughn.

He taught them all. By the time he was done, Tobias had to look down and see the blood and scales painting his knuckles. Bludgeoned, scaly corpses lay around him, the shuffling of plate mail and yelling guards encroached upon his position, and Tobias Vaughn had grown sober from his drunken state of rage and insanity. He seemed to vanish off the face of the planet after that, leaving behind his cult of personality and the reputation he'd built.

It was a cycle, he realized. Had he not left, he would've sat upon that filthy throne himself. Another generation of starving youth and weak, bruised bodies would have followed in his wake. And then, when he's at his most vulnerable, he would be put down like a dog, for the next crime lord to take that place and continue the cycle.

He must be better than this. There must be something better than that life.

His legs grew weak, and his mind was wracked with errant emotion, his belly empty, and his muscles strained. Out in empty wildlands between cities, the large man collapsed against a tree and felt so unbelievably tired from all the running. The burnout from years of street fighting and chasing for gold. He just wanted to close his eyes and relieve his soul to wherever would be the best fit for a person like himself. Under that tree, Tobias Vaughn closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes to the blinding sun, he saw a vision of himself perfected. A man free of hate, hunger, and want; the only desire left in his heart is to improve. Improvement of himself. Improvement of others. Improvement of society. The capacity to shatter the cycle of torment lies within that closed fist - that blue palm he saw in his dreams. There will never be atonement for what he did, but there is a chance to bring more good to this world than evil by teaching the masses to be better.

It was a hallucination from his hunger and his thirst, anyone else would say. Tobias believed it to be a message from a god, telling him one thing; they're still there, and their teachings lie within the hands of men. Tobias' resolve pushed him to rise from that tree despite his weak and hungering body, and limp across the fields to the next city. It took months to rejuvenate from everything that had occurred in his life up to this point, spent in meditation upon the vision he saw beneath that tree, and warily avoiding the gaze of local guardsmen if they recognize him.

It wasn't going to be easy. It wasn't going to bring him any personal fortune. The wide church doors flew open one day to the push of a large man. He grinned and said to himself,

Oh my God, that's a great idea, two druids, one uses wild shape the other is more a spellcaster and the wild shape one pretends to be the animal companion for the caster one.
Why didn't I think of that? Well, I did, but... Why didn't I think of that sooner?

Dressel stands tall at 6'2" although he is a bit on the skinny side at only 160lbs wet. He has dark maroon skin which shows his father's side and sports two small pure black horns that are shaped like that of a ram. With black finger nails the size of small claws, and longer than normal hands, he stands out in a crowd. His face is a testament to his youthful life, as it is hardened with sharp features, a long chin and dark corners. His yellow eyes put fear into those who look upon him and ears are thick and pointed, although his features stay hidden behind his dark cloak always adorned upon him.

Personality

First and foremost is Dressel's desire for power. He loves his uniqueness in the world and will do whatever it takes to better himself. He is a proud individual, always maintaining his cool in the direst situations. He has a dominant attitude where he views himself above all others, even those who admittedly have more power than he does. Some would consider him snobby or stuck up in a sense, but he more cares for himself and will use, manipulate, or dominate any that stand in the way of him attaining his goals. Dressel is also somewhat of a perfectionist. He keeps very detailed notes and is orderly in all he does.

Background

Dressel grew up an abominable mistake. Outrage and hate followed his birth. So much so that it is a wonder he lives at all. If it wasn't for his mother's last testament to not outright murder the infant, Dressel would simply not be. However, due to his mother's last cry before she died of childbirth he yet lives.

The young tiefling was badly abused and neglected by his human father. Not his real father, for that right was reserved for some horrible, malicious devil. It appears as though Dressel's mother so bad wanted a child that she had made some sort of pact with such an evil. Her desires were, of course, different then what transpired. For she desired a grand child. One of great power. One that she would be proud of. She instead was tricked by the devil. For in a dream he entered her womb and lay the seed for the abomination that would be Dressel.

Dressel grew up in harsh conditions, he had 4 other siblings, brothers in fact, that would constantly taunt, bully, trick and prode him. At every opportunity his brothers were mean to him, a fact that his human father would noticeably overlook as his fate. The young tielfing was so mistreated that one day he nearly died at the hands of some neighborhood vagabonds. Dressel swore from that day forward that he would gain power. No matter what it cost him, and someday "repay" the fate handed to him. Rather than look at his "condition" as one of ill, he sought after that side of him. He longed to know that side of him. Spending long hours reading over various amounts of knowledge, Dressel discovered and manifested many of his powers.

After a fair amount of training, and learning the arts from various other arcane gifted individuals, Dressel simply excelled. He would pour over ancient knowledges and tombs until he simply couldn't stay awake any longer. he practiced his arcane arts over and over. A steady rythmatic practice of his power until he controlled every single aspect of them. He also explored his demonic side and gained invaluable power from it. After many years of honing his skills, the dangerous arcanist was ready to "see" the world in a new light. But first, of course, lie his enemies.

In a swath of vicious hate and malice the tielfling laid waste to all who treated him poorly in his early years. He secretly murdered his brothers and human father and fled the area. Careful not to leave a trace of his handiwork behind. You could just see the gratification on his features as the tiefling made his way away from the only place he ever called home.

He now looks to new horizons, and desires nothing more than to gain in power and prestige...

Race: Half-Elf.Alignment: Neutral.Class: Inquisitor of Pharasma.Party Role: A versatile character with a little bit of everything.Appearance: Myka is a stunning half-elven woman with fiery red hair. Her facial features are noble, with hazel eyes and pouty lips. She is quite pale, and can often be described as gaunt, perhaps due to her connection with the goddess of death.Personality:Background: Myka, despite her parents dying when she was quite young, has never considered herself an orphan. While she may not have a father, she has always felt the presence of a mother figure in her life. Raised in a large temple of Pharasma, it was easy to miss one of the many orphans that resided there. Her childhood was mostly mundane, serving Pharasma the best she could. The only reason she finds herself more powerful now is due to an unfortunate outbreak of ghoul fever in the temple, which killed most of the priests and acolytes. The uninfected treated the others the best they could, but in the end the temple descended into decadence and paranoia in what would be their final moments. Myka doesn't know if there are any other survivors, but if there are, she seeks to meet them.
Faction:[/B] Sisterhood of Roses